


Gluttony

by BelladonnaWyck



Series: Demon Days [1]
Category: Hannibal (TV)
Genre: Demon Hannibal Lecter, Demons, M/M, Meals, Sickfic, Some mentions of blood
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-10-01
Updated: 2019-10-01
Packaged: 2020-11-09 01:51:24
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,691
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20845580
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/BelladonnaWyck/pseuds/BelladonnaWyck
Summary: Hannibal accidentally exposes Will to a virus from Hell - literally. Will is grumpy and doesn’t want to be taken care of, but Hannibal insists and makes him increasingly extravagant and outlandish dishes.





	Gluttony

**Author's Note:**

  * For [colette](https://archiveofourown.org/users/colette/gifts).

> This is part of the #GaveYouARareGift2019 exchange from HQ. Colette, I hope you enjoy and that this is even remotely what you had hoped! <3

Will was fairly certain he was dying and this is what Hell must look like. Which, he supposes, Hannibal would know as he was quite literally a creature from Hell. 

When he had accidentally summoned a demon while grading papers several months ago, he hadn’t expected it to end exactly like this. He hadn’t really expected it to end at all. He’s leaking _goo,_ for one thing, from places he’s certain goo should never come from. Black and tar-like, it tastes just as disgusting coming up as it does when he tries to swallow it back down.

When he coughs, his throat feels like burning coals are being dragged across his esophagus and tongue, and his eyes keep randomly flashing, at inopportune moments, a Hellfire red, like Hannibal’s, nearly always are. 

He’s been in bed for the last several days, not able to go out for fear of spreading the virus or having Hannibal found out. They’d discovered a few days ago that it _was_ a virus, actually from Hell, something Hannibal had rarely seen, and only in humans that were exposed to Demons in an intimate fashion. 

Will supposes, in hindsight, that having unprotected sex with a Demon wasn’t safer than having sex with a human and he probably should have just insisted on the damn condom. It’s not like Hannibal couldn’t have waved his hand and probably magicked one into existence. 

Either way, here they are, with Will in bed, surrounded by three of his seven dogs _on_ the bed, while the others lay or rove around the floor _near_ the bed, ever vigilant as their owner wastes away. 

Winston has been beside himself, basically sprawled over Will’s entire upper body and the sweaty, goo-stained sheets; Will had given up on changing them after the third change on the second day. Buster isn’t much better, curled up in a fluffy circle near Will’s face, occasionally licking at his red-splotched cheeks. Zoe has her head resting on his feet, watching the Demon in the room as he practically dances back and forth in the adjacent small kitchen.

The best part of being sick is that Will gets to see Hannibal practically all day each day. The Demon appears in a puff of smoke in the morning, and Will often falls asleep cradled in his arms at night. Hannibal shifts into a nearly fully human form when he’s with Will, his glamor only slipping very occasionally when the Demon is overwhelmed and his control falters. When Will had first summoned him - by accident, again he reminds himself - he had been in full Demon form, black leathery skin, blood-red eyes and wings to match. His horns were black and arched beautifully from his skull. He was slightly taller than a human man, his appendages stretched elegantly in an ethereal way that spoke of the supernatural. He had sharp, bone-white teeth and Will was immediately taken by him. 

When Hannibal had shifted into a more human-friendly form, Will had been just as enamored. Sandy blonde hair, whiskey-soaked eyes and thin lips that stretched over teeth nearly as dangerous, if not as sharp, as his demon form. 

The worst part of being sick and having a Demon caretaker, though? The food. Hannibal has been forcing food into Will for a week now and the dishes keep getting more and more extravagant, all recipes from Hell, as Hannibal handles a lot of their cooking, and he’s sure they’re lovely if you’re a Demon, but his human stomach sometimes feels like it’s being consumed by the food instead of the other way around. 

“Hannibal, please, no more. I can’t eat another bite.” Will groans, pushing the plate he’d already stopped eating from several minutes ago to the opposite side of the mattress, but he still can’t escape the smell. 

“It’s eel from the River of Fire, freshly caught this morning. I thought for sure it would suffice,” Hannibal worries his apron that he’s taken to wearing, curling the edge in an anxious fist. It reads _Nice to Meat You_ and Will got it for him _before_ all of the goo-related grossness. 

Will knows that Hannibal is _trying_ and he feels sort of bad for practically dying so soon after meeting the Demon, never really giving them a chance to be anything. And their compatibility has been so promising, that Will finds himself nearly despondent. 

Hannibal is fascinating, full of knowledge from the actual dawn of time until now. He doesn’t overly care for animals, but Will’s dogs have taken to him like fish to water and Hannibal has adapted, and seems to return their regard; he feeds them homemade dogfood, anyway. And Will has even, on a few occasions, seen Hannibal bend to pat between floppy ears or beneath slobbery chins. 

He told Will yesterday that the Hell virus would either run its course, or it would take Will’s life, and at this point Will honestly isn’t sure which he prefers. He already feels like death, anyway. 

“How curious. I had not anticipated this outcome, I have never seen a Demon be made. We were all created with the first stirrings of the Divine, and those of us that are Fallen followed Lilith and Lucifer from Heaven in a storm. And we have simply existed, there have been no new Demons.” Hannibal observed, his head tilted in that alien way that he sometimes does, as though he is observing a new and fascinating species. Perhaps he was. 

“Wait, what? This fucking _goo_ is either going to kill me or turn me into a Demon? I thought you said it would _run its course,_ Hannibal?!” 

Hannibal tsked as Will jostled all the dogs and sat up too abruptly in bed, spilling the slimy, putrid-smelling eels onto the floor. 

“I said that it would run its course, or you would die. The final stage of the virus is transformation. I apologize if that was unclear,” he worried at his bottom lip, a fairly human trait he seemed to have picked up on already. “All of the other cases of infection ended in death. No Demon has ever been made. The transition is difficult, human bodies are simply too weak.” 

Will was overwhelmed. Over the last week he had been diagnosed with a deadly Hell disease, laid in bed and unable to leave his house, and had to endure some of the most disgusting food he’d ever been witness to. And now, this. Demon or death. 

On the first day of his sickness, Hannibal had brought him an actual, live snake demon. He’d cut the demon's heart out and tried to feed it to Will, _while it was still alive._ Will had, rather diplomatically he thought, asked Hannibal to only bring him food that was dead _before_ it bled out all over his floor.

That had apparently not been specific enough. The next day, Will awoke to the smell of rotten eggs and steam. Hannibal called it _nest soup_ and it consisted of the nest of some Hell bird - made from its sulphuric smelling spit - and the boiled eggs from the nest. Three eggs lay nestled in the clear soup, one of them cracked open to reveal a horrific-looking creature with a wide black eye, flat and creepy in death.

Will had begged that Hannibal bring him comfort foods, things that might remind him of home or take his mind off his sickness. 

That had also been a mistake. 

The third and fourth days were fried snake on a bed of vinegar-soaked collared greens followed by fried chicken feet partnered with the, now pickled, eggs of the same bird-like creature Hannibal had already tried to feed him previously. He apparently misunderstood that all comfort foods were fried or pickled, and therefore safe, for Will to consume. 

Hannibal let out a dejected sigh and Will felt a pang of guilt course through him. He didn’t want to upset Hannibal, but his stomach was already roiling from the sickness making its way through his body, he knew he couldn’t handle any more exotic food. 

“So, if I don’t die, I’ll become like you? What does that mean, exactly?” Will tried to smile, but he was sure it came across as more of a grimace. His stomach was cramping painfully and he was pretty sure he had goo leaking into his underwear - which he just didn’t have the energy to worry about at the moment. 

“You would be a Demon. I think you’d be quite strong. We could be companions for all eternity.” Hannibal looked almost wistful, and Will could understand why. They’d both been alone for so long; Hannibal far longer than Will. Will could only imagine a life that stretched back to the origins of creation, and how horribly lonely it must have been. 

“That doesn’t sound so bad,” Will tried to be optimistic and it seemed to work, Hannibal’s frown curling up at the edges as he settled onto the edge of the bed and brushed some of Will’s sweat matted hair from his face. 

“You look so lovely, Will.” Hannibal leans in for a kiss just as some more goo decides to bubble up from the seemingly endless pit inside his throat. Hannibal doesn’t let it deter him, he simply smears it away with his thumb and takes Will’s lips with his own. 

***

Will woke to a familiar, pleasing smell that brought back memories of being a boy in Louisiana. The spicy, warming scent of gumbo filled his entire house, and he looked up from his bed to see Hannibal - in his demon form - grumbling under his breath in the kitchen. 

“Hannibal?” Will’s voice cracked when he spoke and some black goo stained his lips. He knew his condition was getting worse, but he was ignoring the symptoms. 

“I apologize if I woke you, Will. I am having some difficulty with -” he paused, looking down at a recipe card. “ - cornbread? Which, apparently, is not simply made from corn.” Hannibal was covered in cornmeal and all sorts of other random ingredients that Will wasn’t sure he wanted to figure out.

“What happened?” he tries to push himself up into a sitting position and all the bones in his body seem to protest the attempt. 

“I tried to use my powers to make the cornbread. It did not work.” Hannibal replies, wiping his hands through a trail of powder on his cheek. He sighed and looked around the kitchen, the most helpless Will has ever seen him. 

“Are you also making gumbo?” Will tries to distract him from his internal musings, finally managing to lift himself so that he’s leaning on the stack of pillows behind him. 

Hannibal finally smiles, nodding in the affirmative. “There were many different recipes but I think I managed to find one that would have been the closest to what was common in your childhood. It is nearly ready.” 

Will returned Hannibal’s smile, glad to see the Demon so excited. And, to be honest, Will was hopeful that this would be a meal he could actually stomach; it smelled promising at least. 

He dozed for a few minutes, his body always exhausted as the fever blazed beneath his skin, and when he woke again it was to Hannibal perched at the edge of his bed, a bowl of gumbo in hand. 

Will took the offering and took a spoonful of the hearty stew past his lips. Flavor exploded on his tongue, and he felt transported back in time to the days when the worst ailment he faced was skinned up knees from playing too hard in the bayou. He could taste the celery, onions, and bell peppers distinctly, and Hannibal had settled on a seafood base, it seemed, brackish and salty, with crab, shrimp, and fish. 

It tasted fantastic, and Will was stunned into silence as he ate nearly the entire serving before his stomach started to clench and he was leaking goo from his left nostril. 

Hannibal looked so pleased as he watched Will eat, his smile not even faltering when Will started to cough up black tar into his bowl. 

“I believe your transition is nearly complete. Perhaps even by tonight, it will be over,” he observed, using his napkin to clean the goo from Will’s face and where it had spilled down his throat. 

“Do you really think I’m strong enough to survive it, Hannibal? That I will become a Demon?” 

Hannibal appeared thoughtful for several long moments, and Will felt his eyelids drooping, his body craving more sleep. 

“I think that your becoming will be radiant. And I cannot wait to see you through it, darling.” Will barely heard Hannibal’s reply as he drifted off into sleep.

***

Will was standing in the kitchen, all of his dogs sniffing around his feet as he tracked blood through the house. That was his first flicker of awareness. 

Their paws and muzzles were streaked with blood as well, and as he spun around the room, it looked like a murder scene. He caught a glimpse of what looked like a carcass on the bed, but before he could walk to it, Hannibal appeared in front of him. 

“You may not wish to look at that, darling. Part of the process is that your Demon bursts forth from your human skin, much like a butterfly emerging from a chrysalis. The result is quite bloody.” 

Will looked down at his hands, and seemed to take in for the first time that they were clawed, the fingers elongated, and his skin swirled red and black, leathery like Hannibal’s. 

The copper smell of blood was heavy in the air and Will was dripping rivulets of the tacky fluid. “I think I need a shower,” he replied dumbly. 

Hannibal waved his hand and the bloodbath cleared instantly, and Will felt dizzying swoosh low in his stomach as his skin seemed to knit back together over his body, pink-tinted flesh molding over the sharper angles of his new form. He caught a glimpse in the reflective surface of a window pane and saw his familiar human form, now covered in a navy blue suit. 

Will laughed, and turned to Hannibal, who was in a similar suit in red and black. “So, I take it the virus has turned me rather than killed me, unless this is all some fever dream or…” he trailed off, smiling brightly at Hannibal. 

“You are Demon,” Will had never seen Hannibal look so pleased. He was practically radiating joy. 

“What’s for dinner, Hannibal?” Will chuckled, taking a seat at the small, but now well-appointed table tucked in the corner of his kitchen. 

“Thinly sliced wagyu beef with romesco sauce and a lemon spritzed romaine wedge,” Hannibal replied, gesturing at the table. Two places had been set, an animal skull that Will didn’t recognize placed in the center of the table, flowers pouring out of it. 

“You’re incapable of normal, basic human foods, huh?” Will’s laugh was full, from his belly, as he adjusted in the seat, the human glamor wearing thin in some places and causing his tail to poke out, cumbersome to sit on in the suit. 

“Your power is already very great, but you will need to learn to control it,” Hannibal took his seat, elegant and regal as always. He seemed to process what Will had said, before picking up his fork. “If you insist on eating human food, I must insist upon making it of high quality ingredients.” 

Will could feel his eyes flash, knew they were probably now the same bordeaux shade as Hannibal’s, and smiled. “Is it real wagyu beef?” he placed a thin slice on his fork and brought it to his lips, the meat practically melting in his mouth. 

Hannibal’s eyes got shifty, his features aloof. “Of a sort,” he replied vaguely. 

Will sighed, his smile growing wider. He knew of Hannibal’s proclivities; humans, until Will, had practically been like cattle to him. “Ah, so long pig then?” he let his mirth show openly in his eyes as he scooped up another slice. And, so finally, after a week of turning down meal after meal, he ate.

**Author's Note:**

> This is also part 1 of a 7 part series based on the 7 deadly sins!


End file.
